First Words
by SweetFirefly
Summary: There were better ways to meet the person who would become your whole world. /IchiHime, first meeting/


**Fandom: **Bleach  
**Title: **First Words  
**Author: **SweetFirefly  
**Rating: **G – K  
**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort/Drama  
**Pairing: **Ichigo Kurosaki X Orihime Inoue.  
**Spoilers: **Only for the early Replacement Shinigami arc.  
**Summary: **There were better ways to meet the person who would become your whole world.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bleach, else Byakuya would probably be the protagonist. My God that man is dreamy.

**A/N:** Finally! After two years of flirting with Bleach fandom, my first Bleach fic has come to light. *-* For some reason the IchiHime pairing really got through to me and I thought I'd write something about their first meeting, right after Sora's accident. Hope you'll like it!

If there are any mistakes, please warn me!

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**First Words**

Cold glass was pressed into her hands, and the strong fingers over hers only let go when they felt she'd gotten a firm grip.

Had she known then just what that boy – that man – would mean to her, she'd have expected something more dramatic to come out of his mouth, but she didn't know anything right then; she was too lost in her confusion and grief, and the first words that Kurosaki-kun ever said to her ended up being somewhat unremarkable:

"It's water. Drink it, It'll make you feel better."

It did.

They were in his kitchen. She only knew that because she remembered, briefly, the doctor telling his son to take her there, not because she recalled actually being taken there; the last couple of hours had gone by like some sort of nightmare, foggy except for some frightening flashes of reality.

That thought, of the nightmare, was attached to a series of other bad thoughts, and she didn't want to cry like that in front of someone she barely knew, so she choked the thoughts _down down down _and looked up to see Kurosaki-kun observing her awkwardly.

He turned away quickly. Just staring at him hurt; it hurt so much to be her, in that kitchen, being looked at and taken care of, and the tears sprung again to her eyes.

"Are you hungry?"

He wasn't looking at her directly – only from the corner of his eye – but she could tell what he was trying to do. She choked another sob and merely shook her head.

His frown grew deeper, and his eyes actually turned to her. "You ought to eat. It's going to be a long night, you can't go through it on an empty stomach."

"I – I don't want to give you trouble – I really don't feel like eating anything. I'm – I'm not feeling well. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." His frown softened a little bit; the noise of him getting up and going through the cupboards, however, was sharp and hard. "If you don't really want to eat, at least let me make you some hot cocoa. Just to fool your stomach."

She didn't find the strength to refuse, so she just sat there, listening as he went through the motions, fetching what he needed, cocoa powder, milk, sugar, a pan.

The silence and the atmosphere stifling her chest, like a cage to her heart, _gripping._ It reminded her of hospital stays and sick days, of the silence of their fight, of_ she didn't even say goodbye _and _he loved her so so much _and the sobs now wouldn't be choked anymore.

She wiped her eyes frantically, pathetically, _don't give in just yet, don't give in just yet_, tried to take a deep breath and failed. She wished to be anywhere but there, wished to be anyone but her, wished to be in Sora's arms being comforted – and reality hit her again like a brick, _I'll never be in his arms again, _and she had forgotten but now she remembered, and she just cried.

The crying went on for a while, almost obscene in the silence of the kitchen, and she felt sorry for that boy who had to be there to listen to it, but she just couldn't stop; when she thought she was getting calmer, the urge of crying would just grow stronger again right afterwards.

She was so concentrated in trying to calm herself down that she didn't even notice when Kurosaki-kun poured the contents of the pan in two mugs, and sat across her; she only noticed he was there when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes looked up to meet a pair of very intense brown eyes. "Your drink's gonna get cold."

She couldn't find the words for a second. "…A—all right then."

As her hand enclosed around the mug – a pink one; he must have picked it up for her especially –, feeling the comforting warmth of the beverage gracing her skin, she realized she hadn't paid a lot of attention to him ever since he'd brought her to her kitchen.

He had a scary overall appearance; his hair looked bleached and he had something of a frown on his face. But, as she watched him, her last sobs fading into the transitory calm that crying brings along, she noticed that even his eyelashes were orange. She'd never seen orange eyelashes before.

"What're you looking at?", he asked somewhat gruffly. She shook her head, mumbled a "nothing", stared at the ground; she was already intruding so much, she didn't want to intrude anymore. It was probably rude to point out that someone's eyelashes were orange.

Silence reigned in again, suffocating, and she could hear him breathing, drinking the beverage, breathing. The cocoa was slightly watery, but it was warm; it did not reach the lump of ice in her heart, but she hadn't expected it to.

And, just when she was almost remembering again – the transitory calm gone – he spoke: "It gets easier."

She looked up at him. "Sorry?"

He was staring at the ground; it was almost like he didn't know whether he should say it. But there was something about him, a determination on his stance, and he spoke again: "Losing someone. It gets easier, with time."

She felt the lump of ice that was her heart burn and hurt, and the protests jumped to her mouth – how could he know anything about the desolate pain she was feeling? – and yet she listened, because his voice was firm and safe like nothing would ever be again.

"I know it hurts so much you think it's never gonna stop – it feels like you're never gonna be the same again. It's okay, it's really never gonna stop, you're never gonna be the same. But", and he looked up, and his intense eyes drew her in, "but one day you wake up and you smile – and you remember and you wonder how you could ever have smiled, but the other day, you smile again. And again and again, and one day you stop remembering it all the time. You just remember it every now and then. And when you remember, you feel sad – but not _sad. _Not like you are now.."

She thought of saying something then, but she wasn't sure what – there were so many things to say that they were trampled in her throat, choking.

"I wish I could say", he went on, and there was almost a shade of shyness in his voice, "I wish I could say to you that it stops, that you forget that person, but you don't. It keeps hurting. I – I guess what I'm trying to say is that—"

His hand rose, and she knew it was warm even before it touched her shoulder; it felt like an extra blanket in your bed in a cold night.

"That you'll – you really learn to live with it. It hurts a lot, but you'll learn to live with it. So it's okay to cry today, because – because you're just getting used to it, to this – this – this burden, and one day you'll learn to live with it, you'll get better at living with it. And – and I just wanted you to know that I understand what you're going through and—"

And he didn't say anything else, because Orihime couldn't hold it back anymore; the sobs broke through her composure and the tears burst forth from her eyes, and it was the single most awful feeling she had ever felt – but she would learn to live with it, would one day learn to bear the pain, and that made it all right to cry now. He had made it all right to cry now.

And she would never be in his brother's arms again, but the arms of that young boy were now holding her to his chest; and as she choked the tears on his shirt – because _they didn't get to make up _and because _she had carried him in the rain _and _he would never be coming back _–, a little of his warmth did reach the lump of ice in her heart, making an impression all his.

When she met Ichigo Kurosaki again, half a year later, he wouldn't recognize her; she, however, would recognize him, and her heart would beat faster under his intrigued gaze.

She supposed there were better ways to meet the person who would become your whole world.

However, as she looked into his honest brown eyes and introduced herself all over again, she realized she wouldn't have traded it for anything else.

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**Thanks to: **The great Tite Kubo, and Masakazu Morita and Yuki Matsuoka, who did a great job as seiyuus for Ichigo and Orihime!

Please let me know what you think!


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